Lost Souls - Discontinued

.5.

It had been approxamitely a week since the team moved on from that village on to the next. There were some days they slept in the desert because the tiny towns were so far apart. Every day that passed left a sinking feeling in Peter's stomach. Finally, he went up and asked Dr. Strange was day it was.

Approxamitely.

"Well I've just been keeping track of the numbers." Strange admitted as they stopped for a short break in between colonies, "but if I had to guess I would say early August."

Peter's sinking feeling worsened. "What day?" He asked quietly. He needed to know. Strange was already getting up, they had to move on. Peter stood, but he grabbed Strange's wrist. "What day?" Strange hadn't heard him the first time, but Bucky had. The soldier moved a little closer to Peter as Strange did some mental math.

"I don't know... maybe the 10th?" He suddenly announced. "The tenth of August? Ugh, we've been in this damn place for so long!" Quill exclaimed, kicking the dirt. Even Nick cursed under his breath, though he had taken to being oddly silent their whole trip.

Meanwhile, Peter's reality was speckling in and out of focus. Dr. Strange was already turning away when Peter's knees buckled and he went down. Thankfully, Bucky's reflexes were quick enough to catch him, and slowly lower him to the ground.

"Peter!" Wanda cried, abandoning her post at the front to run to him. Strange turned around and paled in panic. "What's wrong?!" Bucky asked, smoothing Peter's hair back to check for a fever. Peter was staring at his hands, obviously holding back tears.

"What's up with him?" Sam asked impatiently, crossing his arms. Peter took a deep breath. "I... today... is... I'm 17." He finally managed. Bucky stiffened as he understood.

"What?" Strange was not so quick.

"It's your birthday?" Wanda asked softly. Peter nodded, face falling as his eyes stung with tears. "Aw hell." Nick grumbled, running a hand down his face. Of all superheroes for Tony to recruit, he had to pick the sensitive minor with puppy-dog eyes. Nick wished Peter was safe with the civilians, but knew he was safer with them. He hated to admit that, despite his own silence, Nick was growing fond of Peter's constant chatter. He rambled on about unimportant things that kept everyone from dwelling on grief.

And he was only 17. Damn.

"It's ok. We'll get out of here." Maria assured softly, distancing herself from Fury's side for the first time since the incident to kneel in front of Peter. "You can celebrate with your parents when you get back."

Peter shook his head. "My Aunt." He croaked, and Maria blinked in surprise. Nick clenched his jaw. A sensitive minor with puppy dog eyes who was also an orphan. Stark really knew how to pick them. Finally, Nick gave up his silence and moved to Peter.

"Look, kid," he paused and waited for Peter to meet his eyes. "Happy 17th, I'm sorry you have to spend it here. The faster we get out of here, the faster you can see your Aunt and Tony again."

Peter nodded and Nick helped him up. They had to keep going, even if Peter was shaky and trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop.

Bucky usually walked close to Peter anyways, but for the rest of the 'day' he walked with an arm wrapped around Peter's shoulders. That night, instead of sectioning off into their respective sleeping groups - AKA I don't trust you cliques - they all huddled together.

Each person mourned that night for the time they lost.

oOo Several Months Earlier oOo

Slowly, May Parker rolled away from her computer. The call with Tony Stark had just ended and all the adrenaline left her body. Her boy, Peter, was gone. Vanished into the dust like so many at her work and around the world. Not her, not Tony, but the little gem of an orphan she had taken in.